


Deal

by More11a



Category: Filth (2012)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-13
Updated: 2014-11-13
Packaged: 2018-02-25 06:24:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2611673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/More11a/pseuds/More11a
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She can deal with any of them. What she cannot deal with are those blue, blue eyes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Deal

# Deal

Amanda Drummond knows she’s a champ at what she’s doing – which doesn’t change the fact that she’s the only girl on the team. But she can deal. She can deal with that kid Lennox who looks at her like he’s never seen a woman before. She can deal with Peter and Gus and Dougie. She can deal with any of them.   
What she cannot deal with are those blue, blue eyes. 

She knows Bob made the right choice when he delegated all that responsibility to her.   
And she knows that, if she were on duty and had her gun with her, she’d be unsure whom to shoot first, Detective Sergeant Bruce Robertson or herself. 

What she doesn’t know is that Bruce is long gone, and just because she wants to help – _if_ that is what she wants, after all – doesn’t mean the child hasn’t already fallen down the well. 

They say that the soul weighs 21 grams, and she wonders if Bruce happens to be 21 grams lighter. She wants to ask him if it hurt, losing his soul, or probably selling it (or drowning it in booze). Because she hates him, but she hates herself with more of a passion, this Amanda she has become, sassy and tough and head over clicky heels aflame. 

She douses herself with hair spray and confidence in the tiny toilet cubicle at the office and looks into red-rimmed blue, blue eyes while the little girl inside her is shaking. This weakness is clashing with her ambitions, but she can’t help it. 

He looks like he spent the night in his rubbish heap of a car – smells like it as well – but to be honest, everyone in this place looks like that somehow. A uniquely successful race indeed.   
“Let’s make a deal, Mandy”, he says and his voice is rough like a cat’s tongue, so unnerving she hardly realizes that he called her that stupid nickname again.   
She wonders briefly if his world is spinning as madly as hers, or maybe if it is all calm – the eye of the storm. 

Her flight instinct kicks in a second too late because he’s already way too close and so she doesn’t back away or punch him, not even when he shoves her into the wall. Pressed up against the wood paneling at Edinburgh police station, Amanda Drummond kisses Bruce Robertson back and tastes whiskey and sorrow and audacity, and maybe there’s nothing there that needs to be fixed yet. 


End file.
